Trees, Teens, and a Mandatory Fee for Wearing Jeans

"...Or was his destiny from the start

To be just one moment

Near your heart?..."

- Ivan Turgenev

There is hardly anything more profound than the ardent hope in the sight of the teenager. He has observed both the beauty and cruelty of and in the world, and despite that believes in the ardent possibility; such a boy is not far from the man of faith.

What is a tree?

Do you mean a tall and elegant piece of furniture in nature? Do you mean an object with all its constituent elements; its frame, branches, lush summer-green leaves or autumn auburn-red ones, thorns and other ugly constituents...and what of a stump? Are you implying something far more sinister (e.g. the stupidity of my- or thyself as in "not even knowing what a tree is")? Or have I misspelled the natural number 3? Or is this mere superstition, the falsity of honor, the foolishness of pride, even attempting to dick-ride such philosophical nonsense? Was it me or YOU who posed this obnoxious question in the first place...

Now that I have gotten your attention, my dear friends (sarcasmo!) and foes, let me present my wholly sound and serious argument against wearing jeans, namely, it is a worse war crime than the killing of children in the hospitals of Gaza city.

1. Uncomfortable.

2. Are we in the 80s or 2025?

3. Why not "no pants?"

4. Is Jake or Jocelyne really going to shag you in those worn-out hoary flats?

5. Was Radiohead the only way to be cool in your teen years?

6. Did Billy Gibbons's "blue jeans" get in your screwed-up half-consciously filthy head?

Conclusion: You (Should) Will not Wear Jeans under any circumstances!

And p.s. we should have a mandatory fee for any tragic hero daring to wear jeans (we can call it the piggy bank of Aye Ego ;) =winky emoji(you see what I did there)).

On a more serious note, there is one crucial thing I wanted to bring attention to: life is inexpectency in the potentiation of the infinite; never expect the unexpected since life is just that, we are the river of Heraclitus. It is about time to ram Parmenides 'un-changing' up his ass. At any moment; past, future, present, we are the longing and ardent innocence of the teenager; we are the deliberating elder, the mismanaging and chaotic mid-life crisis woman, or the dying record-breaking great-great-grandfather – yet we could always be otherwise. Some call this the beauty of life. You know me better, I call it "suffering" or the lack of a better determination or cause. Only when this truth of life is transformed from inner disappointment and guilt into an honorous path of anger and resentment and unleashed onto the deserving fallible earth, can the said man see beauty. Such courage is yet to be observed, to my utter disappointment. Cowardice is like the stump of a tree: it could have reached unimaginable heights, and it knew the ardent possible, but rather than facing such magnifying odds it let itself die upon a lost cause: the false claimant of honor; hope and beauty.

Now you might say "you are the epitome of an anti-aesthetician, philistine, pessimist, miserable freak...and a right-wing populist conspiracy theorist." Granted, I am a pessimist! But do you really think any great man was truly an optimist (did Hitler really unleash terror upon every Jew for sheer optimism of a better world...I very much doubt it. Oops, I let such vile things happen, and still, I do not feel any more guilty than tomorrow. Did Obama continue the Iraqi occupation for his humane love for Iraqis? And did Michael Jackson do the moonwalk to celebrate his love for children?) Enough of my vile mumbling; you probably did not even catch half of my madness. Anyway, my (precious) main point was to alarm your fragile soul to the reality of life: anything can happen. You might die in the next thirty seconds or did yesterday. You might find illustriously wondrous love and one white night it slips out the backdoor. Reality might laugh at your face, like I have on multiple occasions. Are you now slowly grasping my position, the roots of my devilish behavior - my only, and most purest of all desires, is to encourage one to prepare for the worst in not preparing at all, yet somehow circumventing all that has been said and acknowledging that suffering is beauty, laughing at the creak of noon is your only sword against the superior enemy combatants of the morrow. And it is up to you whether you will be there laughing next to me on the pedestal or high-horse, or bowing at the first stage of denial, or kneeling at the mercy of some wannabe God. I am your destiny! No one put it better than Master D: "You were destined for me, perhaps as a punishment."

Dedicated to the Queen of Hearts: "It was a wonderful night, the kind of night, dear reader, which is only possible when we are young. The sky was so starry, it was such a bright sky that looking at it you could not help but ask yourself: is it really possible for bad-tempered and capricious people to live under such a sky?" And under that sky, I wanted to stay put for-ever, as the ardent teenager. With a darling by, I could finally die.

- Aye Ego

P.S. The argument for a mandatory fee for wearing jeans will be elaborated in the all-elusive future (and perhaps finally will the pineapple pizza have its deserved spanking).